


Hey Boy!

by Danouji



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-06 13:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17345855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danouji/pseuds/Danouji
Summary: The new radar technician is getting your calcinator rewired and your hard drive hot, hopefully there is an explanation to all your recent headaches.





	1. New Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Bless that SNL skit.

Life was a circuit: one thing led to the other, and the next one and so on; failure, a light that didn't shine, meant the next wouldn't either. Progress. Organization. The First Order was a circuit, too: bigger than life, the circuit continued in so many directions; officers, stormtroopers, pilots, the triumvirate, technicians, cleaners, droids. You enjoyed the order, the path. It wasn't a pyramid, in your mind, everyone stood on equal ground, and only one led to the other.

General Hux was your favourite amongst The First Order. He was what many achieved to be, officers or not, a role model to efficiency and hard work. Once or twice had you thought about him in more _private_  ways (dozens of times was closer to the truth, actually). His dedication was admirable, it transfered to his abilities in bed –surely.

Your efficiency had dropped 1% this week. Something Hux wouldn't have allowed, had he still been the recipient of your most recent thoughts. But, _stars, he was cute._ More than cute, he was handsome, tall and awkward (very awkward). You liked him a lot. Matt the Radar Technician was slowly working his way up your list.

A file slammed on top of your work station. You flinched, cowering your shoulders at the sound. Officer Monroe glared at you, retrieving the file that had scared the shit out of you. “Technician,” He snarled your title, a normal occurrence. “I advise you hurry, less you be sent to Phasma's sector.”

 _Oh no._ Pale, you nodded, “Yes, Sir. Right away.” Phasma's sector was 'trooper territory; you did not want to go there. In fact, you did not want to go anywhere outside Technician's quarters. The fact that you thought everyone was on equal grounds didn't mean everybody believed that. Officers were pleasant during breaks, but verbal abuse was, apparently, okay during working hours; 'troopers were out of the question, no technician wanted to ever encounter a 'trooper. Cafeteria meant mushed food on one's head and bathrooms meant being locked inside for a while. You'd thought bullies were exclusive to the Academy.

_Wrong._

“What are you doing?” You looked across the room. “That's not how you rewire a calcinator!” Whoops. New boy was screamed at. He held a wrench in one hand, while the other supported him against a panel.

But, did he not know how to rewire a calcinator? Really? He was getting into trouble, you had to rewire ten calcinators a day, at least!

You looked at the figure above him: Lead. Her name wasn't Lead, actually, it was short for Leader Technician. She oversaw this Station's work, and from today's view, trainees, too.

“Rewire the Calcinator! C'me on, Matt!”

Oh boy. _Ohhhhh boy._ Meddling into things meant trouble. Trouble meant getting your ass kicked by Officers or 'troopers. Matt was getting his ass, metaphorically, kicked. You weren't. That meant safety. Not meddling meant safety. Yes. Not even if he was handsome, with big glasses, and cute curls at the end of his hair…

“Rewire the ca-!”

Oh boy.

“Lead!” The heads that turned meant you spoke too loudly. Already going south. “Lead.” Lower this time. She looked as you walked over. Matt did too, through his glasses. “I can oversee him, from here…” She lifted one brow. _How did she do that?_ “Hm, I mean, it'll be good to my curriculum. To instruct a trainee, ma'am.”

Matt didn't move, at least not when you glanced. Did he even blink? His stare was somehow heavier than Lead's. Your stomach churned. Butterflies –or farts. Talking to superiors gave you indigestion. Matt's face scrunched.

“Alright, Technician.” You beamed at her. “Only because I need to eat my muffin.” She stressed her point, not wanting you to feel special: nobody was in the First Order.

When you looked at Matt, you realised he did look special to you. Specially because he held the wrench from the wrong end. This was a mistake.

“So, Matt…” Did knowing his name made you a stalker? No, Lead had said it. _Ugh,_ a _dd uncertainty!_ “Right?”

He nodded once, sullen. “I'm a radar technician.”

“Me too!” Too loud, again. He didn't flinch. “Me too. Uh, so, you need help?” He furrowed his brows. Of course he does, that's why you're here! Already regretting your decision, you crouched, grimacing at yourself. You sat down on the floor and scooted closer to the open panel. You looked at the hole, the calcinator right in front of you. You opened you mouth and shut it, unsure of your next words. “Do you… Do you know what a calcinator is?”

His brows furrowed even closer, as if deeply offended by your words. You leaned away from him, a throbbing pain in your head. Force, were you regretting this. _But no!_ You had to help, so everything could be in order –and your productivity could go back up! _Do it for the General!_ Your mind supplied.

“Of course I know.” He scoffed, as he examined the panel.

You nodded, “Yes, of course. I just thought, because Lead…” His stare was intense. “Yeah, let's rewire that calcinator, Matt.”

You needed a muffin, too.


	2. Oh, Captain, my Captain!

There was a soft swift of pages being turned, General Hux reading from actual paper instead of a datapad surprised you as much as it did 30 minutes ago.

You were kneeling beside him, staring at the wires. His desk drawers could only be opened if _he_  touched them –they hadn't when he got to his office. Which is why you were here. But on that note… _Why_ were _you_  here? You'd tried to remain silent, hesitant to distract the General from his activities; the fact that you were working at the moment, and time was of essence for the General helped deter you, too. But the question was too big, also his leg was right beside you and the idea of him stepping on you while he talked was oddly satisfying.

_I think his cologne is intoxicating me._

Before your thoughts turned weirder, you spoke. “General, sir… Why, uh, why me… sir?” You tried not to look, but the rustle of papers caught your attention: he left them on the desk and you tried not to stare at his now uncovered face.

“Are you complaining, Technician?”

Others might have seen it as an accusation, but for you he merely posed a question: he wanted to now. “No, sir.” You weren't scared of the General; a bit anxious and starstruck.

“You were recommended,” This time he said your name, as if to prove his statement.

You almost melted, like the butter you'd had on your toast this morning. “Oh!” You tried to recall any recent jobs that involved anybody important but couldn't. Maybe Lead was repaying you for taking on Matt. You cowered between your shoulders, your aimless stare fell upon the touch panel of the desk: you'd been recommended to the General! _The General!_ You swiftly went back to work, eager to show him how much you looked up to him and The First Order.

  
A few more minutes passed, all that was left was to screw the panel back into place and recalibrate it –you felt content.

The door swished open and whoever was there reached the desk in a few strides –there hadn't been a knock, which you should've found strange. The General didn't move, as if he heard nothing.

 _Am hearing things?_ Yourcuriosity won: you rose, slowly, holding onto the border of the desk, and peaked.

There, already staring at you, stood Commander Ren. He stood still; you did too. His mask reflected your face and entranced you, did he even breath?

Fearing that not saluting him could be seen as treason jolted you. The tools that hadn't been secured on your belt fell with a symphony of ‘clanks’. “C-Commander Ren!” You stood in attention, feeling the indigestion start to form. _If you could not right now, stomach, that'd be great._ Puking on him would probably result in death. Most likely. Surely. You still had a career in front of you, you didn't want to die like this.

Instead of chocking you, Commander Ren gave you a curt nod and looked at the General. His next words still directed to you, “Leave.”

You hurried to pick up and secure all your tools in your bag and belt, thankful for the way out of the disagreement that was (pretty obviously) going to take place.

“Did you finish, technician?” General Hux asked.

 _Staaaaars, the panel!_ But you didn't want to be there when the problems started –a pressure already present at the back of your skull. _I'm just a technician, Creator, have mercy._

Commander Ren's mask snapped towards you. Instinctively you looked down: staying would anger him. The four screws were simultaneously screwing into place, the screen lit up and the message "Calibration completed. Welcome General." displayed on the screen.

You looked up at the Commander and took it as your cue to leave. “Yes, sir. I'll show myself out.” You made yourself as little as possible as you exited.

Once outside the door you looked back inside: the Commander blocked your view of General Hux, his fist relaxed until it went to a natural position. The door closed.

_Kylo Ren knows how to recalibrate screens manually._

 

* * *

 

At lunch, you told your friends about the encounter with two of the triumvirate's members. They all lingered much more on the fact that you'd completed a job for _the General_ or how _Commander Ren_ didn't kill you for not acknowledging his presence sooner; how they favored you, for whatever reason.

But that wasn't why you'd told them! The fact that both the General and the Commander did mundane or otherwise ‘normal’ tasks proved your point: equals. If the General read from paper instead of waiting to get out his datapad and the Commander knew basic technical abilities it meant they didn't think of it as lesser. They held the ability to overcome obstacles for the greater good (something many leaders had failed to do, specially back in the Empire days).

Your ideas felt justified, for once.

“So,” Charles, nodded his head at you, “Kylo or Hux?”

“What?” You stopped eating your (mysterious) Cafeteria's Wensday stew.

“Kylo or Hux? Which would you bang?”

Your friend, Ylisse, intervened, “Which would _you_ bang?” She retorted.

“Phasma.”

“Traitor! She's with the 'troopers,” Another technician accused. “They are technician's natural predators.”

“Everybody is,” Ylisse said.

“What are you talking about?”

The booming voice called behind you and the liquid in your spoon almost fell over your shirt.

“Matt!” Your friends eyed you, and then him. He looked quite imposing, even with his shoulders slouched. You scurried closer to Ylisse and convinced yourself that leaving him on the end of the table, only next to you, was a coincidence. “This is the new boy -guy.” Calling him boy aloud seemed childish when he towered over everyone: even if you'd all been standing.

Matt sat down, his hands lay on top of the table as he did. He looked at your friends, his eyes scrunched every now and then, although his frown was present through it all. “I'm Matt, I'm a radar technician.” The way he said it wasn't technician like: most of you were soft spoken, at least when meeting people.

Ylisse smiled, “I'm a radar technician, too.” She was also blonde, although shorter than you.

A few other Tech's introduced themselves in a similar fashion.

“Charles, computers.” He reached across to pat Matt on the shoulder; but the look on Matt's eyes and the straightening of his back was too intimidating to ignore. Charles retreated as the table sat in silence.

It took Matt a few seconds to stop glaring at Charles. He said your name, as he turned to you.

“Yeah?”

He nodded.

It felt like an order, and you were quick to answer, “Oh, I'm a maintenance tech.” He frowned. “I never specialized, so…”

“You should.”

Such simple words made your pride swell, the conviction behind them made you forget he was still a newbie.

_He means I'm good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wuuuu hey!
> 
> I wrote a chapter and edited it for a week; at the end I deleted it and rewrote the whole thing. And this baby came out, yas.
> 
> Feedback is the best, every time you comment Matt smiles and doesn't kill Zach's son (sorry).
> 
> See you next week, booooy!


	3. What in the Force just happened?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Hux wants things fixed, Matt wants to lose his career, You want to not die (thank you very much).

Perhaps you should've been more attentive of calendars: was it opposite day? Weird, and unusual, you used every spare second you had to glance at the General, who was  _smiling,_  at his datapad. Smiling! (Did he have a stomach bug? You made weird faces when that happened.) Your stomach swirled like toilet water and you tried to flush any emotions out. However, Matt chiseled a frown on his face, permanent from the moment you two walked into the room until now. He looked pissed, and  _kinda_  hot.

After an hour-long internal monologue of pros and cons –then a long discussion with yourself of how  _suddenly imploding_  wasn't a real threat (and therefore not a con)– you realized that the unusually great mood the General happened to be in was the ideal situation to pose your question.

The screen lit up a sky blue, white letters blinking the word  **Loading.**  Almost done; now or never. “Sir?” Both Matt and the General looked at you. Matt scoffed after a second and continued to screw the screen into place, his shoulders hunched over, blocking the view as he went on with his work.

“Technician.” Your eyes met his a second before they returned to his datapad.

“I was looking into various areas that I work in, and I've noticed I'm better in some of them…” You glanced at Matt, who stared at you, emotionless and still working on the panel without looking. You somehow felt less intimidated by the General's stare. “Perhaps I could be assigned to one, in particular, that I excel in.”

“Are you asking for a promotion?” He said your last name at the end.

You stood straighter, suddenly aware of who you spoke to. “No, sir.” He hadn't sounded angry, which got you to continue. “More of a career change. I want to specialize in–”

“Technician, you went to the Academy, did you not?” You nodded. “Then I'm sure your instructors positioned you in the place they saw most beneficial to the First Order.” He spoke in a swift fashion, as if he'd rehearsed it. “I suggest you keep doing your job. A station transfer can be filed, but insisting will be considered for reconditioning.”

While General Hux might not be scary, he spoke without room for arguments. “Yes, Sir.”

“She will be allowed to choose her job, she's good at it.”

You took back your words: the way General Hux's stare drilled a hole through Matt was terrifying. Matt's glare seemed worse, although his messy hair was distracting.

“I suggest you learn your place, Technician.” The title was snarled as an insult.

“And I suggest you learn yours.”

You felt faint: this was defnitely not a normal day. You were pretty sure that treason wasn't an issue taken lightly. And, however tall and imposing Matt was, you were quite sure the General was far more trained on hand to hand combat than a technician.

They both stood up, and you followed as a reflex: this was how you imagined the triumvirate's meetings went like, but of course, Captain Phasma would've known what to do.

General Hux's belt carried a gun; Matt carried a screw; you carried the impending sense of a death about to ocurr – _probably Matt, it was going to be Matt, no way was he not being charged for treason._

But he was defending you, and he'd come because you were in charge of him for the day. He had to shadow you. You couldn't let him get thrown out of a garbage chute to space.

_Ding._

The screen lit up with it's usual white colour.  _Thank the Maker!_ Fight or flight felt like flight or throw your career in the, metaphorical, black hole.

“W-We've finished, Sir. Are we dismissed?” You stood in front of Matt, doing a terrible job of hiding him ( _dammit, naturally tall man!_ )

General Hux's death, laser-shooting stare, redirected to you; and for a moment you saw yourself next to Matt in the garbage disposal room.

_Maybe he'd hold my hand? No– No, not the time, brain._

Without a change in his demeanor, he spat “I advice you think carefully of who you spend time with, Technician.”

“Thank you, Sir.” You pulled Matt by his wrist and rushed out. This was not how your last day of the week was supposed to go.

 

 

 

“Why did you thank him?” You had let go of Matt's hand after turning a corner, unsure if your were agitated by the dispute or being so close to the reclusive technician.

“Wha–w–what do you mean why, Matt?” You didn't want the whole base to know, so your intensity was conveyed in a shushed tone. “He's the General! Didn't you see him? He was ready to have you out with the cafeteria's waste.”

“He can't.”

“He can!”

Matt tightened his lips and stared down at you without a noise. You shied away after a second, looking at his five o'clock stubble instead, which didn't help either; he was good looking from every angle. He huffed out air, relaxing only a fraction of his tense pose. “He can't.”

No matter how confident he sounded, you couldn't believe he had done that. Your headaches now seemed like a grain of sand in your shoe, compared to the fact that you probably were going to be under scrutiny for the rest of your career.

“You shouldn't have asked him.”

Maybe you'd rushed, but Matt had done far worse, so you werent about to let him win. “My chances were good.”

He spoke right after. “You should've asked Kylo Ren.”

_Say what? How in the galaxy is asking Kylo, crazy-destroyer-mind reader-unknown species, Ren better?_

It ocurred to you that maybe Matt couldn't hear his own thoughts: because no one in their right mind would ever say that.

“He would've said yes.” Matt affirmed with a scowl in his face and a twitch of his eyes.

_Shit, he still looks good when he's crazy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I didn't know where I was going with this story (yes, this isn't just laughs, oh ho ho, there's plot), and I rewrote this four times before finally sitting down and liating what was going to happen. And finally, after 9 months (or not) I gave birth to this chapter.
> 
> Your comments make Matt grow an inch taller! Also, go ahead and PM to chat.


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